Like a Gold Ring in a Sow's Nose

Experience life through the eyes of two star ladies - tat, clothes, tatty clothes...and Goblin beefburgers in a tin washed down with a pint of warm flat Panda Cola.

Magneto's Guide to Car Boot Sales



Car Boot Sales have for many years been the type of thing that I've driven past, shook my head at and thought "thank f**k I'm not in there with that lot".

Then came one night - the champagne cocktail night over at Stephen's house no less - when he was saying how much he needed to

  • de-clutter
  • raise money
  • hadn't got a big car in order to do a car boot

and the alarm bells were ringing but Magneto ignored them and offered the use of the estate if he wanted it, thinking there was no way on this earth he would ever get it together to do a car boot sale. How wrong can you be? Well it seems quite wrong as within two weeks the date was set and Magneto found herself getting up at five on a Sunday morning in order to sell tat whilst standing in a field in Wombourne. Next to the Tip. The irony is not wasted on me anyway.

 

 

 

 

All of this tat is available in a field near you on a Sunday morning. Fill your boots.

 

 

 

One of these is essential, preferably one that hasn't been used for decorating because when it rains the old paste starts to get sticky again...

The day begins

Arriving at Stephen's house I find the hall absolutely full of STUFF. It filled the boot of the estate and the back seat. Boxes of tat, pictures, cookware, bin bags full of teddy bears and a felt covered board with those little nails in over which his aunty had woven a Womble with cotton thread, and it was claimed to be Uncle Bulgaria, primarily because of he had glasses, but it could have been any one of them as far as I was concerned. There was also a framed Athena card of Madonna that Stephen said he was going to chuck out but his brother said to take it, as "someone would buy it". Seeing as his brother must be an expert in boot sales, doing nothing but getting fat in front of Car Booty every morning on the BBC,  Stephen took his advice. With a flask of coffee, a banana, a shed load of change and a pasting table we were off.

And this hollow feeling grows and grows and grows and grows And you wanna call your mother and say, "Mother, I can never come home again because I seem to have left an important part of my brain somewhere, somewhere in a field in Wombourne.  Alright.

So you get there and you are pointed to a place to park up. Stephen's mates had been telling him about a boot sale they recently did in which people were surrounding the car as they pulled up and pawing at their stuff as they were getting it out of the boot. "No way" we think... So anyway, at our designated spot there is what can only be described as a small crowd of 'people' and I use the term loosely, standing staring at the cars that were already there. They looked like zombies. The last time I've seen anything like it was when me and Dan played Resident Evil on the old Play Station. Me and Stephen decided to have a drink of coffee and see what the crack was before setting up. And the zombies stared and stared and I said "this must be what dogging is like". And then a new car pulled up and the zombies stopped staring at us and went to the new car and as soon as she got out they were in her face and trying to get a look at what she was getting out of the boot before she'd even got her table up! So it was with some trepidation that we eventually got out of the car and attempted to set up. We were immediately swamped with what can only be described as the dregs of society pawing and trying to get into the back of the motor to look through the boxes. All the time I'm battling to keep control of my temper when all I want to do is shout "fuck off you dirty old hag" to one woman and another woman is saying "I don't normally go into the boots like this..." but what then? You've made a frakkin exception today? Checks watch - time for Prozac yet? No. Shit!

Anyway, we can laugh about it now.

After this initial frenzy and a few sales amongst the shouts of "got any mobile phones mate?" another car pulls up and the vultures are soon swooping over towards it. We settle in to the day, sort out the table and then have to put up with practically every passing troll asking "does that clock work? No, it has no pendulum". We were glad to see the back of that one. But on to the people. I've never seen anything like them. Weird everything. Weird clothes, faces, shapes, dogs, manners, voices, just WEIRD. As if a coach full of the weirdest people in Weirdsville had just empted it's occupants in the field. We were giggling so much the guys opposite us were laughing at us, but hey, we still sold more than those ugly toothless bastards and we didn't spunk any of the profits on a burger at nine o'clock in the morning for frak's sake!

How To Sell, Lesson One - Don't Call Your Punters C***s

Stephen had an unnerving ability to start calling everyone scum or even c***s as they were right there browsing through his stall. I kept trying to tell him but it was like car boot Tourettes, as soon as there was a sniff of a sale he was off shooting from the lip. You can tell his job is more back rather than front of house! One poor bloke bought a candle given to Stephen by Wayne's family and Stephen said - as the bloke was still there browsing through some more stuff, "thank God that's gone, they don't half buy me some shit". One couple were going on about how they had done a boot sale three weeks ago and got rid of all their clutter - as they were busily buying up someone else's clutter! Mad. And they bought that Madonna picture - because he was a "big fan". I just couldn't get the thought of him having a wank over it out of my head... One old lady beat Stephen down on price for two big quality cushion covers for £3.00 the pair and then asked "are they new?". "Yeah" Stephen replied and off she went. Once out of ear shot (makes a change for him) he said "new my arse, I've shagged on them loads of times".

Loads of stuff went but what I couldn't believe sold was the Womble picture, for two quid. At 10.30 it began raining heavily so we packed up and got a cup of tea, just in time for my Prozac and an afternoon in the pub!


 


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